


Little Talks

by Junia



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Language, F/M, Neighbors, They're both assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 07:38:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15658737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Junia/pseuds/Junia
Summary: Clarke and Bellamy meet in an elevator.





	Little Talks

**Author's Note:**

> This was sitting in my docs, and I thought why not post it, so here you are.

The first time Clarke met him, she wanted to punch him in his — admittedly very attractive but selfish — face.

Work had been long, tiring and she had pieces of vomit stuck in her hair because a patient had missed his sick bucket. And she was already running late to her lunch date with her mother. So yes, you could say, she was very annoyed when she took a leap for the elevator in her building, and watched the guy who was in it purposefully push the close button, even though he had seen her.

Thankfully, the elevator was slower than her because Clarke managed to get inside before the doors closed, slightly out of breath but feeling vindicated. In a moment of pure spite her hand lunged forward and pressed each and every one of the sixteen floors the apartment building had. She finalized her revenge by shooting the guy the most gloating smile she could muster up. However, his only reaction was a mild raise of his brow and an otherwise unimpressed expression. What made it worse was that he didn’t say anything, not a single word, which meant that the next sixteen floors would be spent in silence.

Clarke only noticed her own mistake when they reached the fourth floor. This would take long — way longer than if she had missed the elevator. And apart from her being late, she probably looked like a petty maniac. Maybe she was, but she certainly didn’t want him to see that. After all, he had started all of this, right?

At the seventh floor, she dared to sneak a glance at him — the guy was staring straight ahead, brows furrowed into a mild scowl. He was wearing a blue shirt that stretched around his broad shoulder and complimented his arms. His ink black hair falling in curls around the edges wasn’t very long, but not short either. And wow, Clarke noticed a smattering of freckles on his face, reminding her of — his eyes met hers, and she tore her gaze away.

Unfortunately, not quick enough as she heard him let out a quiet chuckle which made her furious. Because how dare he be amused about this situation? He had decided to push the button, well aware that there was a desperate someone hurrying to catch the elevator. He was responsible that they were now stuck in this piece of crap elevator, stopping on each floor. The least Clarke was allowed to do was to admire his stupid freckles.

She huffed, scrunching up her nose and trying to ignore the stupid heat that was creeping up her cheeks. This was not something he could laugh about. And she was not blushing.

Tenth floor, five more to go for her.

Of course, for the first time in forever not a single person joined them, so they were riding the floors by themselves and completely silent.

Finally, at the thirteenth floor the guy waited for the doors to slide open and stepped out. Possessed by the demon of spite Clarke couldn’t help but yell out a, “Thanks for nothing, you dick” after him. His shoulders twitched at that, but he didn’t turn around and the doors closed before anything else could happen. She let out a frustrated sigh.

-

The second time, Clarke was on the way to work a few days later. She was happily humming the tune of a catchy song that was stuck in her head when the doors of the elevator slid open and he stepped in. Biting down on her teeth, she took a step back and watched as he leaned against the wall, his phone pressed against his ear. Clarke made a mental note that he probably wasn’t just someone visiting, but she still really hoped he was. Because if he was a new neighbor — or maybe an old one that she had simply never noticed — she had made herself a neighbor enemy. And that was never nice.

His brows knitted into a frown as he listened to the person talking on the phone. And then for the first time Clarke heard him speak. It shouldn‘t have been such an exhilarating experience considering that she had seen him one time and that hadn't been a good time. And yet she felt herself holding her breath as he said something in another language that she didn‘t understand. It sounded — she had no idea, but it wasn‘t English and the American education system had failed to teach her more than basic French and Spanish.

Clarke pretended to be super interested in her hands as they rode down together, and he kept murmuring half annoyed responses into his phone. She had to admit his voice was rough and husky in all the right ways. Also, Clarke was very stupid. It had to be one of her super powers to scare away out-of-this-world-attractive people before even introducing herself.

The elevator binged before she had any more time to scold herself. He stopped at his mailbox whereas she went straight out of the door, and so their ways parted yet again.

-

It became normal to see him every other day; mostly in the elevator, once while she was taking out the trash looking like a goblin. And every once in a while she felt his eyes slide across her body when he saw her, always too momentary to be considered checking out, but never failing to make her breath hitch slightly. He — or as Clarke liked to call him _the hot dick guy_ never uttered a word to her to this day, but he did speak into his phone another few times and once spoke to an elderly man in that other language.

She got used to her own idea that maybe he just wasn‘t speaking English. It wasn‘t impossible right? There could be many reasons why he wasn‘t. But every time Clarke started making up scenarios, she stopped and reminded herself that hot dick guy wasn‘t any of her concern. He was just someone who had been an ass one time and then had to ride up thirteen floors with her. That was it. They hadn't interacted with each other since whatsoever.

But damn it he was attractive.

He was actually so pleasant to look at and thirst over that Clarke started telling Raven about him because Raven was always eager to hear about her fantasies. She told her about his perfectly imperfect messy hair, and the tight shirts he wore, and the way he sometimes smirked on the phone. Soon enough her best friend was drooling over him as well, even though she had yet to see him.

So it was only natural that Clarke talked about hot dick guy while riding the elevator with him.

To be honest, it was definitely not one of her finest moments — or days. She had drunk an entire kitchen of booze the night before, celebrating the arrival of Friday so drinking on Thursday or whatever. Which meant Clarke was now hungover as hell, barely able to walk, let alone look presentable. If the NYU hoodie combined with pajamas and a literal bird nest on her hair didn‘t give it away, the sunglasses did.

She was sipping her coffee with the hope to get part of her soul back when Bellamy entered the elevator. Their eyes met for a second, and something totally strange happened: he smiled. Or at least it looked like a tiny smile that he gave her before he turned around, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Her phone rang before she had time to freak out over a curve of lips. It was Raven who was probably calling to ask if she was still alive.

„Griffin, you alive?“ See.

„Barely,“ Clarke said, her voice hoarse and filled with regret of too much rum. „But I think I‘m gonna live. A miracle happened.“

„Oh yeah? Someone took one for the team and assassinated Trump?“

„No, but the you know who guy smiled at me.“

„What? That hot dick guy?“

„Yeah, the hot dick guy,“ she affirmed. Her gaze hesitantly shot to his back but he didn‘t even move a bit, giving no indication that he knew what she was saying. Well, it looked like her theory was right after all.

„He came in and offered me a fucking smile.“ On the other end of the line Raven let something out that was mix of a squeal and a groan.

„Did he say something?“

Clarke let out a sigh. „No. I doubt he ever will, but I mean he would probably be a dick anyway. But y‘know, a very handsome dick.“

„At least something,“ her friend said.

„Yeah, at least something.“

-

Weeks later Clarke was stumbling to the elevator with Raven at her side, a little childish and high after they had hit one joint too many with Jasper. They kept laughing about the voice mail they had received from him when the elevator stopped at the first floor and… hot dick guy came in.

Clarke‘s laughter got stuck in her throat and she elbowed Raven. „It‘s him,“ she whispered.

„Hot dick guy?“ Raven made a step, trying to get a look at him. „He‘s definitely hot.“

„Right?“ She had no idea why they were even whispering, he didn‘t speak English but somehow the weed made her think she would be too loud if she didn‘t.

„He‘s so fucking hot,“ she muttered with a sigh, scrubbing a hand across her face. „I mean, look at him? Is he fucking Adonis or something? But I still kinda hate him, don‘t get me wrong.“

„Clarke -“

„No, I just think he would be great hate-sex, you know?“ Suddenly she heard the way she was talking and gasped. „Oh my god, I‘m totally objectifying him. Am I objectifying him, Raven?“

Raven opened her mouth to reply but Clarke couldn‘t keep her damn mouth shut.

„I would politely ask him if he would like to have hate-sex, of course! It would be a consensual thing. But if he said yes, my god. It would be great sex, just to get it out of our systems.“

The doors slid open and Clarke expected him to step out as usual, but for some inexplicable reason he didn't, instead he turned around.

„I will probably take you up on that hate-sex offer,“ he said slowly his mouth curling into a barely visible smirk. „But let‘s go to dinner first?“

Her mouth dropped open as her entire soul left her body and descended into another plane of existence. Clarke didn‘t know whether she wanted to drown in shame, or maybe laugh because he — he had just asked her —

„Yes! Yes, she wants to have dinner with you,“ Raven answered for her, giving her shoulder a nice clap. „Just arrange it when she recovers. Her apartment‘s 187b.“

His eyes flickered from Raven to her, and finally she mustered up something like a smile. „I‘m Clarke by the way,“ she said.

„Bellamy,“ he returned before shrugging. „But hot dick guy is just enough.“ Again, she wanted to drown in the pool of red that was probably covering her face.

„I‘ll see you soon,“ Bellamy told her and winked before exiting the elevator and heading for his own apartment.

-

To say that Clarke was mortified for the next couple of days was an understatement. All this time, she had assumed he didn‘t speak English so she swooned about him _right in front of him_ and — he let her. It didn‘t help that she didn‘t encounter him once afterwards. Not that she was really eager to face him and the whole situation, but it just meant that maybe… maybe his offer had been a lie. Something he had just said to make her feel better.

But perhaps it was for the best. Clarke wasn‘t sure if she could go on a date with him without turning into a puddle of shame. The best option was probably to never see him again, or even better: move out of the city and forget about this incident.

Bellamy, which was a fucking attractive name she noticed later, didn‘t share the idea, though. Because one afternoon while she was failing to carry all her grocery bags, he swooped in like a goddamn hero and helped her.

„Here,“ he said as he gave her the avocado that had rolled away. Clarke took it with a strained smile and thanked him.

It was silent for a moment and she decided to be at least somewhat mature and apologize.

„Look -“ she said at the same time he uttered a, „Hey“.

Bellamy grinned and waved his hand towards her. „Ladies first.“

„I‘m sorry,“ she blurted out, already feeling her cheeks heating up, „I mean for… for talking that way about you, it was totally wrong. And - and for the elevator thing the first time. You just really pissed me off.“

„I guess I wasn‘t exactly innocent either,“ he said with a sheepish shrug. Then he smiled, though and Clarke‘s heart rate kicked up a notch. „As for the talking… I don‘t mind. I mean I told you I would take you up on that offer -“

Okay, she was pretty sure she was about to burst into flames in front of him.

„If you still want, too, of course,“ Bellamy added, raising his brow in a silent question.

„I mean… you are really attractive.“ It came out squeaky and anxious, but damn it. The hottest guy she had ever laid eyes on was offering her to fuck her and who was she to say no that? All shame aside. 

Bellamy‘s mouth curled into a confident smirk that she wanted to tear away with her lips, swallow it up. „And you‘re a princess that gets easily pissed. I‘m into that.“

„Well, I have dinner,” Clarke offered, cheeky. “That would be step one.”

“Great, I have step two then.” None of them had to clarify what step two was, but Clarke was definitely eager to test it out. 

"How does eight o'clock sound to you?"

"It's a date."


End file.
